


from small beginnings

by ladydetective



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydetective/pseuds/ladydetective
Summary: Regina comes to the Sheriff's station to gloat to a newly-imprisoned Mary Margaret. Instead, she comes across a very frustrated Emma and decides to have a little fun.She gets more than she bargained for.Taken from the tumblr prompt:  "I’ve never seen someone hold their head so high while talking out of their ass."





	from small beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Mary Margaret's arrest in season one. Regina believes she's almost won, Emma's determined to stop that from happening. Feelings ensue.  
> This is my first fic in this fandom, I'd really appreciate any and all feedback. I look forward to writing more :)

Regina saunters into the station, every step heavy with arrogance and triumph and victory. Stopping by the station had become something of a habit for her, ever since Emma Swan took over as Sheriff. She didn’t want to think about why that might be. Regardless, today she did so with purpose – today she had come to marvel at her enemy’s arrest, to taunt Snow White as she lay bound by chains.

But instead of seeing her long-time enemy behind bars as she’d expected, Regina sees only Emma Swan. The Sheriff was hunched over her desk, writing something that she dearly hoped was the proper paperwork. Judging by the way that Emma threw her pen onto the desk with a frustrated huff and a satisfying slam, Regina would guess so.

‘Stupid fucking thing,’ Emma snarled, words fraught with irritation.

Regina’s time had come. She steps forward, a smirk on her lips. ‘Such language, Miss Swan. I do hope you don’t use it around my son.’

Emma’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. She wants to – fuck, she wants to – but she needed to be careful around Regina right now. She knew that Regina had something to do with all of this – Kathryn’s murder, Mary Margaret’s set-up – she just needed to prove it. She couldn’t afford to let anything slip and make Regina suspicious when her friend’s _life_ depended on it.

‘What do you want, Regina?’ She asks curtly.

Regina’s smirk deepens, and she moves closer to Emma. Emma couldn’t help but notice that Regina has more buttons of her trademark silk shirts undone than strictly necessary. Her eyes flicker downwards, as any rational person’s would, and she gulps. Regina’s boobs were. . . very nice. From an objective standpoint, of course. Very curvy and full and. . . No! No, she couldn’t think about this. Regina was Henry’s mother, the enemy. She was off-limits, out of bounds, a big no-no.

‘See something you like, Miss Swan?’ Asks Regina, her smirk becoming positively evil.

‘No! What? No!’ Emma clears her throat, a traitorous red appearing on her cheeks. It almost matches the hue of her jacket. Regina finds it. . . almost adorable. At least, it would be on anyone other than Emma Swan.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emma repeats, angrier than the last time. Regina was getting under her skin in a way she hadn’t predicted. This was different to the way that Regina normally behaved around Emma – she was less territorial, less defensive – and more. . . _cocky_. Like she’d already won. It infuriated Emma, but it was also. . .kind of hot. Emma furiously stamped down the flare of desire that welled up within her – _really bad time_.

‘You’ve already asked that, dear,’ said Regina as she reached out a hand to brush a stray hair away from Emma’s face. Her fingers trailed along Emma’s cheek as she did so, and Emma felt a shiver run down her body. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully feel the sensation of Regina’s touch.

But only for a moment. ‘You didn’t answer,’ replied Emma, opening her eyes and batting away Regina’s hand. Regina’s eyes wavered for a moment, torn between wanting to continue this. . .odd flirtation, and the reason she’d come here.

She chose the latter option. This was the thing she’d been waiting for for years, after all. Years before she’d even thought of having Henry, vengeance had been her child. She wouldn’t neglect it now, not when she was so close to her final victory. She stepped away from Emma. Her smirk remained in place, but changed somehow – it became harder, frostier.

‘As Mayor of this fair town, I had come to say goodbye to our resident murderer. To make sure justice is served effectively – but I see that she is no longer here. Should I alert the federal police and inform them that a dangerous prisoner is on the loose?’

Emma scoffed. It was a hard sound, laden with disbelief and incredulity. ‘Please. You know as well as I do that Mary Margaret didn’t kill Kathryn, so why don’t you cut the crap?’

Regina cocks her head to the side, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Do I? What I know is that _my_ dear friend’s heart was found in a box which had _your_ roommate’s fingerprints on it.’

Emma scoffs, more loudly and disbelievingly than she had before. She opened her mouth to reply, but Regina beat her to it. ‘Now you’re the one not answering questions, Miss Swan. Mary Margaret. Where is she?’

‘With Gold,’ Emma grinds out reluctantly, ‘Working on some of her legal prep.’

Regina’s eyes brighten, satisfied with the answer. ‘Ah, yes,’ she said, voice laden with delight, ‘I imagine she’d need quite a bit of that.’

Emma snaps. Mary Margaret was her _friend_ , dammit, the first she’d had in a long time – and here was Regina, crowing over her arrest like – like – like some kind of _Evil Queen_. The curse may be a load of crap, but maybe Henry’s description of his mother wasn’t so far off the bat.

‘With all due respect, Madam Mayor,’ she spits out the title as if it were poison on her tongue, ‘But I’ve never seen someone hold their head so high while talking out of their ass.’

Regina laughs at that – a deep, throaty chuckle and _fuck_ , why did Emma find it so attractive.

‘My, my, Miss Swan, such witty repartee. Why, I believe that Henry, or indeed, any other ten year old, would be able to find it in themselves to come up with something similarly clever.’

She steps closer to Emma – as close as she’d been before – at just the same time as Emma does. Suddenly, they’re inches apart. All that anger, all that resentment, all that. . . something else, something unnameable, crackles between them, creating a tension so thick that nothing or no-one could have penetrated it.

When later asked, neither could definitively say which one made the first move. All either knew was that suddenly, both were surging forward, each covering the other’s lips with their own.

It was a deep, passionate, all-consuming kiss – quite unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. Emma had had her fair share of kisses in the past – Lily had been sweet and soft and exploratory, whereas Neal’s had been often intermingled with the excitement of a successful heist – and everyone else had fallen somewhere in between. None had felt like this – she felt aroused and exhilarated and excited, all at once, but even that got lost in the feeling of _Regina, Regina, Regina_.

What was extraordinary about the kiss for Regina was that it made her feel something. She’d been _empty_ for such a long time, before the curse, even. In fact, she thought she may have been empty since she’d cradled Daniel’s body in her arms on the floor of that stable, all those years ago. She’d used anger and resentment to fill the void – as well as any number of lovers, Maleficent the sweetest of them – but, like Emma, none could compare. Kissing Emma was a riot of feeling, a conjurer of emotions that warred within her as hard as she and Emma normally did. She was infatuated, content, excited – and even a little bit afraid. She was afraid of the effect this would have on the curse, afraid what it would do to the walls she’s so carefully constructed around her heart – but, once again, all that feeling was drowned out by _Emma, Emma, Emma_.

They moved backwards through the station, never once letting go of the other’s lips. Emma breaks contact for long enough to fumble in her pockets for the keys to unlock the cell door, before re-joining her mouth to Regina’s with enthusiasm. They fall back onto the small, narrow cot – Regina realised with a thrill of satisfaction that it was the cot Mary Margaret would sleep on tonight, certain that her end was near.

Emma moved her mouth away from Regina’s lips, and brushed it against her lover’s cheek in a mimicry of the other woman’s earlier action. Instead of batting Emma’s mouth away as Emma had done with Regina’s hand, she breathlessly moaned encouragement. The Mayor continued to do this as Emma pressed kisses lower and lower, glancing her lips against Regina’s neck – her clavicle – her breasts.

This wasn’t how it normally went. In the past, Regina had almost always insisted on taking the lead, never wanting whatever bedmate she had chosen for the night to see her at her most vulnerable. Emma Swan, it seems, was the exception – as she was for a great many things.

By necessity, they didn’t have a lot of time. Months of simmering tension of the kind they had deserved to be released at their leisure, but they didn’t have that luxury. Gold and Mary Margaret would be back soon, and while Regina would relish the expression on Snow White’s face if she were to see her daughter locked in such a compromising position with her enemy, it would not be nearly as satisfying while the curse was intact. And the thought of Rumplestiltskin seeing her so vulnerable was enough to send a shiver of old fear up Regina’s spine. Quick and dirty it would be, then.

After it was over, both women felt the absurd and entirely unforeseen impulse to. . . cuddle, to retain some of that sense of feeling that had made them feel more energised, more awake, more _alive_ than they had felt in a very long time. Both had dealt almost exclusively in one-night stands for a decade – Regina for far longer. Emma had done it out of fear – fear of letting anyone get close to her again after Neal, fear of leaving herself vulnerable to pain, fear of being abandoned once again. No, she’d learned that it was far easier to be the abandoner.

Meanwhile, Regina had stuck to one-night stands out of necessity. She was the Queen of this little realm, mistress of its inhabitants – yet doing anything other than taking a cursed person to bed felt. . . _false_. She and Graham would carry out their business – and that is what it had been, _business_ – before promptly asking him to leave. With him, she’d never felt the desire for. . . _closeness_ as she did with Miss Swan. It was disgusting, a weakness she could not afford to indulge.

Mercifully, she and Emma seemed to be on the same wavelength, for once. They pulled away from each other awkwardly, the loss of contact sending a shock through both of their systems. Nevertheless, they pushed through it, getting dressed in silence. Both mentally castigated themselves for allowing such weakness to take hold of them, and both vowed to never let it happen again.

(But both knew, deep down, that it probably would. This. . . _thing_ between them, it all felt. . . strangely inevitable, as if there was something pulling them together. They’d fight it – of course they would – neither of them were fans of allowing anything to decide their fate for them – but at the end of it all, they’d still end up beside one another.)

Emma and Regina finished dressing themselves just in time. Gold’s cane announced his presence long before his voice did, Mary Margaret following mutely behind him. He smirks at the two women, while Mary Margaret watches inquisitively, some interest displayed on her face, a stark contrast to the hopeless monotone it had been stuck on as of late.

‘Are we interrupting something?’ Gold asks, vague amusement lacing his voice.

The two women look at each other, silently debating what to do. No way in hell did either one of them want Gold to find out about this.

‘Madam Mayor,’ said Emma, taking the lead and willing Regina to go along with her, ‘wanted to inspect Mary Margaret’s cell. Make sure she wasn’t getting any special treatment.’

‘Yes,’ interjected Regina, ‘Inspecting the cell. The Sheriff’s department is usually so wholly incompetent, I had to make sure that Miss Swan was performing adequately. Because the case is so high-profile.’

This seemed to placate Gold – he really didn’t care, after all – but Mary Margaret remained interested. ‘Lovely,’ he said, before turning to Emma, ‘We’ve finished our briefing for the day. Miss Blanchard may be returned to her cell now.’

He handed over the prisoner before departing. Emma locks her roommate away again, no small amount of guilt and regret in her posture. It wasn’t fair that Mary Margret had to go through this.

Mary Margaret quirks an inquisitive eyebrow and says, in a voice that is low enough that only Emma can hear, ‘Inspecting the cell, huh?’

Another traitorous blush flares onto Emma’s cheek. She really needs to look into ways to stop that, it’s a really embarrassing tell. The bailbondsperson in her knew she could do better. ‘Yeah,’ she mutters, ‘You know how Regina can be.’

‘Mmmhhhmmm,’ said Mary Margaret, in a tone that conveyed her disbelief. ‘You’d better see her out, I suppose.’

Regina smiles at Mary Margaret – a slow, dangerous smile, one that is enough to send a shiver of fear down any normal person’s back – and says, ‘Better enjoy that cell why you can, dear. You’ll be in a more permanent one soon enough.’

She saunters out of the room – Emma admires her retreating form for a moment, before running out after her. When out of earshot of Mary Margaret, Emma mumbles, ‘I think we both know that I performed more than just adequately.’

Regina, once again, raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe, maybe not. I suppose. . .,’ she hesitates then, unsure if she truly wants to make her next offer. The ghost of Emma’s touch, and maybe a part of herself she’d thought long since buried, made the decision for her. ‘I suppose that a repeat performance will be in order. To ascertain whether or not standards really are up to scratch.’

Emma scoffs, but it is softer than before. Almost. . . fond. ‘We’ll see. Goodbye, Madam Mayor.’ The venom is gone from the title, leaving something else in its place. Something like. . . hope.

Regina matches Emma’s expression. ‘I’m sure we will. Goodbye Miss Swan.’

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @poisoniivys or twitter @luisasnowlano. I'm taking prompts and I'd love it if you sent me some!


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